“To get the box—”
“To get the box. We are transporting it by automobile. Listen, Helmsworth” — Froman’s face hardened — “I have been too patient with you. The less you know, the better. That trunk was dropped overboard from a certain ship — the particular one is none of your affair.
“On a cruise like this — a mere test of the submarine — there is no customs supervision at the base. Parker Noyes is an eccentric man. You have benefited by his eccentricity. Now, let us suppose” — Froman’s tone became deliberate — “that Mr. Noyes is so fond of a certain brand of XX Chartreuse or Burgundy — or some other choice liqueur — that he is willing to go to any expense to obtain it—”
“I think I understand,” interposed Helmsworth, with a relieved smile. “He is eccentric, indeed. Yes, he would go to great trouble for any purpose that might suit his fancy.”
“Which is exactly as he has done,” Froman concluded.
There was a rap at the door of the cabin. Helmsworth answered it. A member of the crew announced that the submarine was nearing port.
Helmsworth and Froman ascended the ladder to the conning tower. They reached the deck. The submarine was cleaving through the waters of Long Island Sound, moving smoothly on the surface.
FROMAN was thoughtful as they neared the submarine base. He knew that the Gasconne had long since reached port. That did not matter. The sea risk had ended with the finding of the trunk. A crafty scheme, this plan evolved by Parker Noyes!
Froman was forced to admire Helmsworth’s skill as a navigator. Furnished by wireless with certain reports, he had held the submarine below surface until after an appointed hour. The floating trunk had been found within a mile of the spot where the submarine had waited until after dawn.
It was evening now — another evening since the day that they had picked up the trunk at sea. The searchlight of the submarine picked out a pier. The boat swung into dock.